The Hampstead mystery: a novel. Volume 1 (of 3)Marryat, Florence
General
The Hampstead mystery: a novel. Volume 1 (of 3)
Marryat, Florence
Fiction
‘Well, you see, sir, I am not sure if the authorities will allow of her
removal. It’s the usual thing, under the circumstances, you see, and
sorry as I should be to disoblige you, I’m afraid my customers might
object to her being brought here. “The Bottle and Spurs” is a very
respectable house, sir, and everything will be done, I feel sure, as
can be done, to make things as little unpleasant for you as possible,
but the authorities--’
Still the unhappy man did not understand the extent of his calamity. He
sat down again and passed his hand wearily through his hair.
‘What does it all mean?’ he muttered in a dazed manner. ‘At all
events order the carriage and send for the best doctor in the town to
accompany me.’
‘The doctor is here sir,’ replied the landlord, quickly, ‘ready to
speak to you. Dr M‘Coll, one of our most skilful practitioners.’
Then he opened the door, and called out, ‘Will you step up, doctor,
please, the gentleman is ready to see you,’ and in another minute
a middle-aged kindly-looking man entered the room and went up to
Walcheren’s side.
‘Doctor!’ said Frederick faintly, ‘what is all this about? I don’t
understand it. Have you seen my wife? Is she much hurt?’
‘She is not suffering now, my dear sir,’ replied the doctor.
‘Thank God for that. But why did you not bring her home? I have been in
such awful suspense all the afternoon.’
‘I am sure you must have been, but now I am going to take you to see
her. Here, Mr Cameron, a glass of brandy for Mr Walcheren. No! no soda
thanks. I want him to take it as it is.’
He held the liquor to Frederick’s lips, who drank it at a draught, and
put down the wine-glass with a deep sigh.
‘You must nerve yourself to hear what I have to tell you,’ said Dr
M‘Coll firmly. ‘I told you your wife no longer suffered, it is because
she has gone beyond the reach of suffering. She had been dead for hours
before the boatmen found her.’
The young man sprung from his seat with the one word on his
lips--‘DEAD!’ He stared at his informant for a moment wildly, and then
sinking down on his chair again, threw his arms over his stricken face
and burst into a storm of tears.
‘Leave him alone,’ whispered the doctor to the landlord; ‘they will
save his brain.’ But the next minute Frederick leapt up, and, seizing
Dr M‘Coll by the arm, exclaimed,--
‘Take me to her. Don’t let us lose a moment. Oh, my God! my darling, my
darling!’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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